


Tempting Fate

by barelypink



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M, Renaissance Faires, Troll!Patrick, anniversary trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21552574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barelypink/pseuds/barelypink
Summary: Patrick plans a little surprise for their wedding anniversary. David is not amused.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 41
Kudos: 177





	Tempting Fate

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally the first fic I wrote approximately five years ago in Schitt's Creek time (i.e. six months ago). It was supposed to be a 5+1 of anniversary gifts that Patrick gave to David (and one that David gave to Patrick) but I never figured out the other five. I just re-discovered this languishing among my forgotten docs and figured what the hell? Hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Thanks to Pants for the beta and gentle [persistent] nudging to actually post this.

“Don’t I get at least one hint?” The road stretches out in front of them, just endless miles of unblemished countryside made golden under the summer sun, and David can’t bear the anticipation of not knowing where they’re going. 

Patrick grips the steering wheel and grins, wide and pleased. “Nope! It’s supposed to be a surprise, David.” 

David huffs, but in a way that lets Patrick know he’s secretly enjoying this game they’re playing. “Well, we all know how surprises tend to work out for us.”

Patrick grimaces, but in a way that lets David know he’s teasing. “Oh, I think you’re gonna like this one.”

“Am I, Patrick?” David turns to glare at Patrick. “Am I really?”

“Well….” Patrick clenches his jaw for just a second, but then relaxes his face into that transcendent smile reserved only for his husband. David knows it doesn’t matter where Patrick takes him; he’ll follow him anywhere. Patrick knows it too. 

David lets the roar of the road lull him, head leaning against the sun-sweetened window of the car, his fingers tickling the inside hem of Patrick’s sensible pants as the miles spin behind their tires. David is drowsy on love when he sees the distant but unmistakable sign of what can only be their destination. David sits up, horrified.

“No.”

Patrick’s hand clenches down on David’s fingers before he can slip them away. Patrick knows David has seen the truth, but says nothing. David refuses to turn his head to look at his husband, but he can feel Patrick’s insufferable delight radiating through his fingertips. 

“Absolutely not. Patrick, turn this car around immediately.” 

Patrick chortles. He straight up chortles. 

“Oh, David. I think we both know I can’t do that.” 

Patrick pulls the car onto a dirt road, joining a line of cars already queuing up to enter a makeshift parking lot in the middle of a large field. In front of them, a cluster of scaled structures stretches back and back and back, highlighted by the rising sun. David tries to gulp down fresh air as he reads the sign above the entrance. 

_ Welcome to Ye Olde Renaissance Faire. _

“Patrick.”

“Yes, David?”

“I hate you right now.”

“No, you don’t. You love me.” 

“This is grounds for divorce.”

“That sounds like a lot of paperwork. And guess who does all the paperwork in this relationship?”

Patrick pauses for dramatic effect like the little shit that he is. 

“Oh, right. That’d be me. Guess you’re stuck with me then.” 

David groans, quickly calculating how big of a tantrum he can get away with throwing right now. “I believe I explicitly said no renaissance fairs. I think I was very clear on that point.” 

“No, I believe what you said is that we shouldn’t throw a renaissance fair every month because it would tempt fate.”

David gestures wordlessly to the scene before him, eyes wild and hands flailing. 

“We’re not tempting fate, David. We are the masters of our own fate! And I want to go to a renaissance fair to celebrate the anniversary of my marriage to the love of my life.” 

David closes his mouth, enraged that he has no comeback to that. He twists his mouth and breathes out his nostrils like a dragon. He can’t believe he’s contemplating doing this. 

“Fine,” he huffs, reaching to unbuckle his seatbelt. “But I want it noted that I did this very distasteful thing because I love you so I’m off the hook the next time you need a second in a cribbage match or whatever. And I want that in writing since you love paperwork so much.”

Patrick wastes no time in hopping out of the car and rushing to David’s side. He pulls him into a tight embrace and David can feel the excitement thrumming under Patrick’s skin. 

“Don’t worry, David,” Patrick whispers in his ear and David shivers despite the heat. “You’re gonna love this. Maybe we can even find you a nice codpiece in your size. If they come that big.”

Flatterer. 

“Hnnfph,” is David’s elegant response.

“At the very least, I’ll buy you a big turkey leg to eat.”

“It’s the least you can do.” But David smiles as he threads his fingers into Patrick’s and they move toward the entrance of the--heaven help him--Thornbridge Renaissance Faire. 

There are jugglers and jesters, jousting, and wenches in low cut bodices, turkey legs to be eaten with your hands, and maypoles and dances, and puppet shows. It’s hot and dusty but there’s also ale by the bucket and Patrick’s hand always in his, writing his heart in the sky. It is inelegant and too colorful for David’s monochrome world, but they are celebrating a marriage, a whole life built together from scratch. A little festivity couldn’t hurt. 

David secretly loves every minute of it.


End file.
